


Haunted

by pr0nz69



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Drabble, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Flashbacks, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Torture, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-23 10:30:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18150692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pr0nz69/pseuds/pr0nz69
Summary: The Castle of Lions isn't haunted, never was, but Shiro knows he always will be.--Shiro has a flashback.





	Haunted

**Author's Note:**

  * For [irethsune](https://archiveofourown.org/users/irethsune/gifts).



> This is a gift-fic for @irethsune on tumblr as thanks for purchasing the VLD whump zine! I know you said Lance is your fav, but I'm absolutely terrible at writing him. ;;; So I hope some Shiro whump will suffice! <3

"Not once did I suspect," Sendak says, boots echoing throughout the chamber as he paces, "that the scrawny-looking creature I picked up off some backwoods moon would turn out to be such a _phenomenal_ fighter."

Shiro breathes hard through his mouth, the salt of sweat and blood trapped and stinging his wounds beneath the tears in his bodysuit. He hasn't been stripped out of it yet, or washed and treated like he usually is post-match. This time's different. _Special_. Sendak's word.

It was a championship match--he's a champion now. Is that supposed to mean something to him? It does to Sendak, who made a lot of money off this venture. Who's circling him now like some carnivorous mammal--a house cat, maybe, who has no intentions of eating him and just wants to bat him around for a while to ease the tedium of boredom.

No--Sendak is no house cat.

"It must be your intelligence," Sendak continues, still pacing, still circling. "I've put creatures stronger than you--stronger than _me_ \--into the arena. Not one has ever advanced so far as the championship. And that is because none of them had the wits about them to mastermind a victory the way you did. At least"--he stops directly in Shiro's line of sight--"that is what I would like to believe. But perhaps the reason is simpler than that. Perhaps you just don't want to die?"

He kneels, lifting Shiro's chin up on his fist. "That's it, isn't it?"

Shiro doesn't answer. Sendak releases him--and laughs.

"Such desperation. A motive so self-serving it almost befits a Galra. And yet how soft you are. It really is quite confounding."

He smooths a palm over Shiro's cheek, streaking away the dirt and blood. "I know why you injured that human boy."

Shiro's breath catches, stumbles.

"Oh, it wasn't terribly difficult to figure out. You didn't even cripple him. Do you truly think me such a fool?"

Sendak thumbs his lips, pulling the bottom one back to expose his clenched teeth.

"But I said nothing, of course. The scrawny one would have fallen then and there, a mere appetizer for the champion--excuse me, the _former_ champion. And how boring that would have been. But you--your desire to protect that whelp turned you into a beast. A monster. And look at you now. Champion! And so I allowed your feint, hoping for a show but never expecting that my harmless little concession would end in anything other than momentary amusement."

Shiro shifts in his chair, straining his arms against the cuffs magnetizing them behind him. Sendak notices and smiles.

"You don't appreciate the comfort of being touched? Humans truly are peculiar."

No, that isn't right--Shiro _has_ missed being touched, the warmth of human contact--but by Adam, by Keith, by Commander Holt, not this monstrous creature before him. He grunts as Sendak scoops his chin into his palm and holds it firm.

"Then, human, how should I reward you?"

Shiro doesn't answer. Sendak's grin widens.

"Shall I tell you of that boy's fate, then? Ease your worries--or perhaps exacerbate them? It could go either way, really."

Shiro's breath stutters. He tries to look away so Sendak won't see the terror, the disgust in his eyes, but claws bite into his cheeks and hold him where he is.

"No--sit a while and listen. You see, I had that boy shipped off to the most notorious prison in the Galra Empire. Though frail of body, his mind was quite sharp, and so I thought to make some use of him--to conserve resources, you understand. I suspect that he now slaves day and night under the lash, working on advancing Galran weaponry. That is, if he still lives."

Something inside him breaks, and Shiro lunges. Sendak steps smoothly aside, and Shiro is caught by his restraints, the cuffs on his wrists and ankles holding him to his chair. Sendak snaps his fingers, and an electric current--sharp, familiar, but nevertheless as unbearable as the first time he experienced it--races through Shiro's extremities. He screams, and the echo reverberates after him a hundred, a thousand times. And then it passes, and he slumps forward, heart thundering, brow damp with sweat.

Sendak crouches before him again, lifting his face with both hands. "A most heartfelt performance, Champion." He strokes his hair out of his eyes. "I might even call it beautiful if it weren't so... _disgusting_. An antithesis to the Galra way, and yet I find I'm inexplicably drawn to it in the most repellant manner. I can't quite understand it myself."

Shiro yanks his head away, but Sendak is quick to drag it back. "Speaking of beautiful..." His clawed hand meanders up Shiro's cheek, and his index finger hovers beneath his left eye. "Those eyes. That vitriol. It sets my heart to pounding. If I could pluck out just one... I would keep it by my bedside... Gaze on it every morning as I woke and every evening as I drifted off to sleep..."

There's a probing hunger there. Sendak moves the tip of his claw and prods the sclera; Shiro shudders back, eyelid slamming shut over burning pain. Sendak lets him go, chuckling.

"But truly, your eyes are your best feature. When your body remains hard, they show the true depth of your pain, your sorrow, your fear, your"--he exhales heavily--"your need. And it makes me _want_ you."

He leans forward, and Shiro feels soft-fuzzed lips press against his eyelid.

"I must admit, I do desire you, Champion."

Shiro struggles, but his restraints offer no give. Sendak trails his hand downward, reaching a bare pectoral peeking through a cut in his skintight suit. Shiro groans as claws scrape against his naked skin.

"Don't worry," Sendak breathes in his ear. "This is just the beginning of our fun together."

\--

Shiro wakes to the usual phantom pain in his arm and, less usually, in his eye. He blinks in the iridescent blue glow of the Castle of Lions, trying to will it away. Nothing.

He climbs out of bed, stumbles to the mirror. In the dim light, his face is like a ghoul's, eerily pale, bluish with death. Sendak was right about his eyes; they're transparent with emotion. He touches the reflection of the left one, blotting it out with his thumb. Maybe he _should_ have lost it. It suits Sendak better--a trophy of an obedient slave.

He turns away. His shoulders shake; he crosses his arms and pulls them inward, trying to settle them. The room revolves around him. That's normal, isn't it? It's not, but--Sendak laughs. _No_. It's fine, he's here, he's safe, he's _safe_ \--

He slides down the wall until he's sitting. The room stops revolving. The static hum of the castle is all he can hear now. Unsteadily, he gets up. He returns to his bed without looking at the mirror. He can't look at them now--his eyes. They're dirty-- _defiled_. He covers them with his hand.

He crawls under the covers, hiding like a child from an imagined monster. Except nothing about Sendak is imagined. Sendak is real. Sendak was here, just hours ago--until he ejected him into deep space. What's the matter with him? He's losing his mind. Maybe he lost it long ago.

The Castle of Lions isn't haunted, never was, but Shiro knows he always will be.


End file.
